


in my chest, when i pull you closer

by midheaven



Category: THE9 (Band), 青春有你2
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, and Practice Room Dynamics™, non-daily revelry ot7, this was just an excuse for me to write my favourite contestants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midheaven/pseuds/midheaven
Summary: Keni tests a theory, Xiaotang sees something she shouldn't have, Keyin pieces it together, Lingzi pushes her luck, Xueer is reminded of her past, and Yu Yan is told a surprise.Or: the five times Sun Rui and Jiaqi are found out, and the one time they don't have to be.
Relationships: Sun Rui/Xu Jiaqi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 111





	in my chest, when i pull you closer

**Author's Note:**

> as stated in the tags, this is nothing more than a self-indulgent effort to write my favourite trainees interacting with each other. i'd like to thank all my qcyn friends who scream about them with me. title from lauv.

**one.**

Keni would like to test a theory.

She only has fragments of it, but she tries, anyway. And on it hangs Xu Jiaqi. 

Jiaqi is magnetic. The sharp features, the sweet laugh. Any person with eyes can see that she’s beautiful, but what pulls Keni is the lack of cracks in the facade. 

She didn’t want to find anything _dirty_ , just something that strays from the cool first impression. Maybe she has a bottle cap collection. Maybe she bingewatches _Naruto_ when she’s sad. Maybe she puts her milk before her cereal. Maybe she can recite all of _Titanic_ from memory. (None of which, by the way, would surprise Keni in the least.)

So in-between practices, Keni had taken it upon herself to watch Jiaqi as closely as she could. She doesn’t go to the extent of following her around—just. When they’re in each other’s vicinity. And considering they’re on the same team, that’s _a lot_ of the time. 

It’s been five days and Keni has yet to find anything about Jiaqi other than what the cameras have probably already recorded. She had to cultivate herself for years in Shanghai before all of this, which is probably why there’s no gaps. But—

One theory. A singular one.

She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and heads straight to the practice room. 

“I have to say, Xu Jiaqi, I’m pretty disappointed in you,” Keni tells her. She hands the bottle over. “I really thought I had a chance at you.”

Jiaqi snorts. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve always found you very beautiful,” Keni tells her, puts a hand to her own chest. “So when you picked me for _The Eve_ , I thought my feelings had been reciprocated.”

“What are you _talking about_?” Jiaqi repeats. She places the bottle on the back of her neck, mumbles something to herself that sounds like _You didn’t even want to be in The Eve._

Keni clears her throat. “I’m talking about how Sun Rui seems to have beat me to it.”

There’s a special gaze, Keni had noted, that Jiaqi only seems to reserve for Sun Rui. She originally thought it was just Jiaqi reaching out for something familiar, but when Keni had seen her with the other girls from Shanghai—Zhang Yuge, Xu-Yang Yuzhuo, Song Xinran—it isn’t there. Jiaqi always looks at Sun Rui a little too hard for a little too long.

Keni’s theory is confirmed when Jiaqi takes a sharp inhale through her nose, which is probably the least composed thing she’s done. “Sun Rui?” Jiaqi asks. 

Keni nods. 

Jiaqi’s shoulders slump in what Keni registers as resignation. She rubs her hands furiously on her face and sighs. “How did you find out?”

“Slowly.” Which is the truth. She’d mulled for days. Started taking note of Sun Rui, too—how soft her face grows around Jiaqi, how her fingers are always ticked up around her, always reaching out. 

It’s at that moment that Sun Rui and Keran burst through the door, laughing. They both head toward the mirrors, and pick up the tablet placed on the floor. _The Eve_ starts playing through the speakers, and they both begin miming along to the choreography video.

Out of the corner of her eye, Keni sees Jiaqi tense. Keni had a music lesson, years ago, the relationship between the dominant and the tonic. V-I. Tension to release. How the best composers would utilise it to drive listeners to tears. 

She watches Jiaqi, strung like the fox she’s so often compared to. Jiaqi finally strides over to Sun Rui, who makes space for Jiaqi to sit beside her. Instead Jiaqi sits behind her, rests her head in the space between Sun Rui’s shoulder blades, and eases in. 

Tonic. Jiaqi’s home. 

  
  
  
  


**two.**

Sleep doesn’t come easy for Xiaotang. Not since the show started. 

_Ambush_ is cruel on her body. It’s been nearly thirty-six unbroken hours of grueling, grueling practice, and yet she still has a long way to go. They’re too behind the other team for Xiaotang to find comfort in any sort of progress. 

Sun Rui had decided to keep her company. No one—including herself—knows how they became good friends, but Xiaotang isn’t complaining. Sun Rui is crazy funny, and has that rare quality of making a conversation feel like it’s only been minutes when it’s already been hours. There’s an earnestness to her that makes her very hard not to like. 

They’re in one of the dorm’s common areas, but with tape markers on the floor and the full length windows that can become reflective enough to be mirrors in the right light, it’s more of an additional practice room, really. As if they didn’t have enough. The clock on the wall reads 5:32 AM. 

There’s a soft _thump_ that comes from the hallway, and Sun Rui startles. “God,” she whispers, “Are we not allowed here, or something? I can’t get in trouble again.”

Xiaotang snickers. “I think you should have _getting into trouble_ as your specialty. Have weekly updates.” She straightens her back. “Hello, Youth Producers, for this week’s Sun Rui can’t behave herself—”

Sun Rui slaps Xiaotang’s arm and rolls her eyes. “It’s annoying. You know, the first time I had to go to Shanghai alone from Harbin, I got too excited and accidentally bought the wrong ticket.”

The sudden change in topic doesn’t even faze Xiaotang anymore. “What’d you buy?”

“One for Vladivostok.”

“Are you _serious_?”

“Worst trouble I’d ever gotten into.” _Ah. So that’s why she mentioned it._ “When my mom found out—”

Another _thump_ , a little louder. And then the click of a door closing, and the telltale _pat-pat-pat_ of footsteps. 

When the person comes into view, Xiaotang’s eyes widen. “Xu Jiaqi?”

Sun Rui shifts. “Jiaqi? Why are you still up?”

Jiaqi blinks in lieu of giving an answer. She heads straight for Sun Rui, almost falling beside her. Xiaotang watches as a wrinkle forms between Sun Rui’s brows. She tucks a strand of hair behind Jiaqi’s ear and places a quick kiss to her forehead. “You can’t sleep?” Sun Rui asks. 

Xiaotang tilts her head. Jiaqi mumbles an answer and Sun Rui offers her some comfort, and something about it makes Xiaotang want to avert her gaze—as if she’s intruding. Sun Rui’s never like this. Never so singular in her attention. Never so tender in her concern. Xiaotang bites back a question. 

Sun Rui whispers, “Okay, here.” She guides Jiaqi’s head to her lap, strokes her hair. The sun rises, and light begins to stream through the windows. 

Sun Rui turns her head back to Xiaotang, and continues her story from earlier. Not once does her hand stop. 

Xiaotang swallows the question. It’s answered already. 

  
  
  
  


**three.**

“Shangguan Xiai called me,” Keyin announces as she enters the new MAMA classroom. “Is she here?”

It’s Dai Meng who answers. (Isn’t Dai Meng part of another team?) “Oh, you just missed her.” She stands up from the floor and dusts off. “I’ll go get her.”

The girls from Shanghai must have gathered, Keyin muses. There are only four other people in the room aside from her, and it’s Xu Jiaqi, Duan Yixuan, Sun Rui, and Dai Meng. It feels weirdly intrusive, but who is Keyin if not intrusive?

Dai Meng heads off, and Keyin sits on the floor. She’s nearest to Jiaqi—who Keyin just finds delightful. Very pretty, very talented, and very fun to talk to. 

“It’s not even the dance that’s hard, no?” Keyin asks. “It’s making it look good.”

Jiaqi groans. “What is even the _point_ of this round?” She yanks the ponytail out of her hair and ties it again. “And, yeah. Making it look good is hard. No stage, so just—ugh.”

Keyin watches as Jiaqi flops onto the floor, limbs spread out. 

“There, there,” Keyin offers. “It’ll all be over soon.”

“Wake me up then.”

Keyin chuckles. “Will do.”

In front of her, Sun Rui continues to practice. Yixuan is also taking a break herself, having a biscuit in the corner by the curtains. Keyin doesn’t intend to, but she finds herself watching. Evaluating. 

Sun Rui is a good dancer by all means. She tries to recall her theme song ranking—F?—and Keyin just gets even more confused. If Keyin wants to nitpick—a lack of power? Or maybe she falls short in singing? Keyin notes Sun Rui has done particularly well in all the assessments save the theme song; is it the difference in atmosphere? Does Sun Rui not do well in more girlish songs?

There’s something quite attractive about Sun Rui, though, Keyin notes. There’s a … fun, boyish charm to her, the way she carries herself, the flow of her speech. 

“Sun Rui’s hot, isn’t she?” Keyin says, but just loud enough for only Jiaqi to hear. 

The response Keyin expected: “Why aren’t you talking about how _I’m_ hot?”

The response Keyin did _not_ expect: Jiaqi bolting up, back ramrod straight. Her eyes narrow, her expression wary. She looks at Keyin for a good, long, hard moment. Keyin counts to six before Jiaqi asks, “You, too?”

Keyin pulls back. “What do you mean, me, too?”

“First Zeng Keni, now Xie Keyin,” Jiaqi mumbles. 

Keyin is hopelessly confused. Zeng Keni? 

“What about Zeng Keni?”

“She’s so—I don’t know.” Jiaqi sighs. “Perceptive?”

 _Perceptive?_ Keyin thinks about how Yu Yan looks at Zeng Keni. How she’s had to watch Yu Yan look at Zeng Keni for years. If Keni’s perceptive, Keyin’s the Queen of England. 

“And this relates to Sun Rui being hot _how_?” Keyin asks. There’s only so many ways Zeng Keni being perceptive, Jiaqi’s agitated response, and Keyin’s offhand remark can all make sense. 

“Who’s calling me hot?” Sun Rui yells over the music. She whips her head around and faces Jiaqi. “Is it you, baobei?”

_Baobei?_

A perceptive Keni, calling Sun Rui hot, “ _You, too?_ ” Keyin feels them, like puzzle pieces carefully slotting in place. She looks at Jiaqi, who’s now looking back at Sun Rui. Studies her face. Keyin knows she has an uncanny knack for reading people, and she thinks the look on Jiaqi’s face says it all. Maybe all the years of having to see how Yu Yan looks at Keni has paid off. 

The door slams open, and it reveals Shangguan Xiai. “Xie Keyin!” she calls. “I’m sorry I was gone, but I’m here now!”

Keyin blinks. She’ll process _that_ later. 

“Let’s go!”

  
  
  


**four.**

Of all the trainees in the show, Lingzi didn’t expect to be this close to Xu Jiaqi. 

She and Jiaqi are on the same team for the first time for _R &B All Night, _ a second time for _MAMA_. That’s two weeks of having lunches together, which has formed a habit for Lingzi that has spilled to today. Lingzi likes how Jiaqi unfurls at a single touch—it didn’t take three seconds before she had glued the R&B All Night team together just by the strength of her sociability. She likes how determined she is. Lingzi and Jiaqi share a face they make when the music starts and they need to start dancing—the setting of the mouth, the hardening gaze. Lingzi likes how it melts away when the music ends. 

Jiaqi’s a wonderful teammate, and with how she likes tucking Lingzi under her arm even though she’s a good four centimeters shorter, Lingzi’s sure Jiaqi thinks the same. 

Lunch, again. “Did you hear about the talent show?”

“Yup,” Jiaqi answers around her food. “I’m gonna shell a crayfish with my mouth.”

“You can do that?” Lingzi frowns. 

“Wait and see, Liu Lingzi.”

“Wanna help me with mine?” Lingzi asks. “Was planning to dance to the piano version of the theme song.”

“Boo, boring.” Jiaqi sticks out her tongue.

“Boo, more chances of it being aired,” Lingzi counters. Jiaqi cackles. 

Jiaqi agrees to do it, anyway. She always knew Jiaqi was a good dancer, but the choreography they’re devising is more familiar to Jiaqi than any of the other songs they’ve danced together. Lingzi’s glad she asked—she’s never seen Jiaqi so in her element before.

There aren’t any classrooms available, so they’ve only been dancing in the hallway. It’s cramped, but it’s just the two of them, so it’s fine. 

From the corner of her eye, Lingzi spots Sun Rui arriving. 

“There you are!” she calls. “Xu Jiaqi!”

Jiaqi turns. “What?”

Sun Rui sets her hands on her hips. “Come with me, I’m bored.”

“Let me do one last run with Lingzi.” Jiaqi grabs Lingzi’s hand, turns her attention to her. 

They start the dance again, and around thirty seconds in Lingzi feels a prickly heat on the back of her neck. She sneaks in a split second glance behind her and sees Sun Rui looking _very_ displeased. 

Lingzi tries to hide her laugh. Xu-Yang Yuzhuo has also expressed her annoyance about Lingzi hogging all of Jiaqi’s time. But the next time Lingzi turns around, she doesn’t have to look discreetly, and she gets a better look at Sun Rui’s face. Jaw tense, eyebrow ticked, arms crossed. 

Huh. That’s … different. Of course, Lingzi has to push it to its limits. Every chance she gets, she brushes her fingers against Jiaqi’s face, and at one point lets her own lips brush against Jiaqi’s ear, just to see what kind of reaction Sun Rui will give. 

The results amuse Lingzi to no end. Sun Rui is _fuming._

Not one second after the music ends, Sun Rui exclaims, “Alright! Let’s go!”, her voice the crack of a whip, and yanks Jiaqi from Lingzi’s grasp. All Jiaqi does is look back at Lingzi and give a final wave goodbye, smile wide on her face. 

Lingzi would have never thought, not in a million years. This show is full of surprises. 

(The next time she sees Jiaqi, she has a pain relief patch by her collarbone, and Lingzi notices a scratch on her shoulder.)

  
  


**five.**

Xueer doesn’t think she’s ever seen Sun Rui sad. 

The only picture of Sun Rui she’s ever had is of her laughing, bent over, her long, black hair cascading. Even when she’s giving instructions it’s with the ghost of a smile on her face. _Kong Xueer_ , she’d say, _you think your good looks will distract me from the fact you were out of position again?_

After the results for the assessment were announced, they were mercifully given an hour of free time, and everyone scatters excitedly. Xueer had decided to use it to sleep, so she heads toward the dorms. 

But the moment she steps outside the building, she hears Zihan behind her asking, “What’s wrong?”

Xueer turns, and sees Sun Rui buried on Zihan’s shoulder. Trembling.

A sudden wave of protectiveness washes over Xueer, and she walks toward them, guiding them to a spot that had the least people passing by. They’re outdoors, so the sound of Sun Rui’s cries don’t carry, and the noise around is enough to let them speak freely. 

A few seconds later, Xiaotang and Shuxin arrive, followed by Keyin. A magnetism borne from their time together, Xueer supposes. They were all in each other’s vicinity when they were filing out of the building, so they all probably saw what Xueer did. 

Sun Rui sits by the wall and hugs her knees. Xueer sits by her and tries to offer any comfort she can. 

“Where’s Kiki?” Xueer hears Keyin ask. 

Shuxin answers, “Last time I saw her she was talking to Dai Yanni-jie.”

Xiaotang pipes up. “Zihan, come with me. You too, Yu Shuxin.” She gives glances to each of them. “If all of us are gone she’ll notice and wonder where we are.”

Keyin adds, “Make sure she doesn’t come here.”

Xueer frowns, tries to swallow the _Why_? that she wants to ask. She turns to look at her teammates. Shuxin and Zihan look as confused as she is, but there’s a calm to Xiaotang and Keyin that unsettles her. They know something the rest of them don’t. 

Shuxin tries to protest, “But—”

Xiaotang grabs their wrists, promises them, “I’ll explain.” Zihan looks at Sun Rui to say “Feel better soon,” before they leave, their footsteps fading. 

Sun Rui’s still sobbing, hands around her knees, face tucked in. She’s so small. Xueer could have never imagined her like this, the warmth of her smile, the strength of her voice, her infinite expansiveness. All shrinking in front of her. 

“C’mon, San-ge,” Xueer whispers. “It’s okay. They’re just numbers.”

Sun Rui shakes her head, the tiniest back and forth. Xueer feels a hand on her shoulder; she turns and sees Keyin close her eyes and shake her head as well. _It’s not the results._

“You wanna talk to us about it?” Xueer tries again. 

Xueer sees Sun Rui’s back rise and fall, slowly, the deepest of breaths. She finally looks up and the sight near breaks Xueer’s own heart, the red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks. 

A single, broken, strangled word. “Jiaqi.”

_Jiaqi?_

Keyin inches closer to Sun Rui, rubs her back. “You’ll still see each other,” she soothes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m going to miss her so _much_ ,” Sun Rui whispers, her voice the softest Xueer’s heard it. 

Xueer picks at her own brain. Jiaqi’s pretty much locked for the final lineup. Sun Rui isn’t. If they had gotten the extra votes, Sun Rui might have had a shot, but they lost. They were aware of it, during practice—Jiaqi had stuck to Sun Rui for most of it. The hems of Sun Rui’s shirtsleeves are frayed from how Jiaqi would hold onto them. It had baffled Xueer. She’d researched, before the show. From what she could tell, they weren’t _that_ close in Shanghai; their closeness is one that would be expected from being on the same team, but nothing more. 

But Xueer also knows this kind of sadness. She’s so familiar with it that if she thinks about it too much she’ll have to blink back tears of her own. 

Sun Rui sniffles. “She’s really leaving.”

 _You’re really leaving?_ A voice that haunts Xueer over, and over, and over. 

Xueer’s pretty sure she understands now. Jiaqi’s desperation, Sun Rui’s heartache. Why Jiaqi can’t be here right now. Why they’d had rare public appearances with each other. She turns to Keyin and prepares to mouth a question, but before she can even ask Keyin nods her head. This is what Xiaotang must have already known, too. 

“I don’t know how I’ll do it,” Sun Rui says, voice cracking. Two more tears fall from her face, staining her shirt. Her shoulders slumped, her eyes empty. 

Xueer inhales. “It’ll be hard, but if it’s worth anything—”

The _Lion_ team passes by. They were asked to stay a little longer so the production staff could explain everything about their reward stage. Xueer tries filter through them—hones in on Yu Yan’s cackle, on Dai Meng’s voice, on Chengxuan’s giggle, on anything except—

“If it’s worth anything, she’ll miss you, too.”

  
  
  
  


**and one.**

Jiaqi thinks Sun Rui doesn’t know she’s noticed. But she has. 

The tinge of sadness that graces her face every time they talk. How the girls—her _Revelry_ girls, in particular—have been clustered around her, catering to her; Shuxin stealing ice cubes from the cafeteria so she can enjoy her soda the way she wants, Zihan giving her a pair of earrings she’d only made an offhand comment on how cute they were. The half-crescents by her ankle—Sun Rui tends to pinch herself there when she wants to stop herself from crying. 

The show is nearing its end. They’re going to be pulled apart. It’s what they both expected, of course, but Jiaqi knows that it still hurts. Feels it. 

What hurts more, she thinks, is that Sun Rui had seemingly taken upon herself to start distancing from this point in the show. Jiaqi thinks she’s probably bracing herself for what’s to come. But Jiaqi so much as brings up a suggestion on how they can keep in touch and Sun Rui shuts her down, cracking a joke or starting another story. Sun Rui’s never hidden anything from Jiaqi—ever. And it stings that she does it know, when more than ever they _have_ to open up to each other. 

“Sun Rui,” Jiaqi whispers to herself. “What will I do with you?”

“Okay, Xu Jiaqi, you don’t need to think about _that_ kind of stuff when there’s other people in the room,” Dai Meng’s voice chimes. “Is Sun Rui coming over? Should we leave, or …”

Jiaqi finds it funny that Yu Yan seems to have opened up especially to Dai Meng. They’re together on Dai Meng’s bunk bed—with their room unbearably empty after Yuge and Yuzhuo left, Dai Meng had invited people over almost every night. Yu Yan seems to be more relaxed around her, her smiles coming easier; a testament to Dai Meng’s ability as a leader. 

“I wasn’t thinking about _that_ , you weirdo,” Jiaqi retorts. “She just hasn’t been talking to me. Well—she _has_ , but I can tell there’s something she’s not telling me.”

“Still?” Dai Meng frowns. “You guys don’t have much time left.”

“I know,” Jiaqi whines, burying her face in her hands. “And it looks like Xueer and the rest know what’s going on, too. I don’t blame them for not telling me, but this all just so …” Jiaqi trails off, gesticulating randomly in an effort to express how she’s feeling. 

“She’ll come to her senses eventually,” Dai Meng offers. “If she won’t, I’ll beat it into her.”

Jiaqi snorts. “Thanks.”

“What’s been up with her, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Jiaqi answers. “I try to bring up how we’ll talk, she shuts me down. I joke about how I’ll have to _send_ her birthday presents, she switches the topic. I asked her if she wanted to spend a day with me after the show and she called me dramatic.”

At that, Dai Meng cackles. “God, I forget how emotionally constipated she is.”

“Why do you need to make post-show plans?”

Jiaqi had nearly forgotten Yu Yan was there. She would like to again acknowledge how Dai Meng just seems to pull everything that Jiaqi keeps in her chest. 

“So we can keep in touch,” is Jiaqi’s reply. 

Yu Yan frowns. “If Sun Rui is being _that_ annoying about having less time to talk to you …” She clicks her tongue. “I mean, it’s not like you guys won’t be friends anymore if you don’t reply to a text or two.”

Dai Meng and Jiaqi share a look. Dai Meng gives an encouraging nod—Jiaqi kind of agrees. Yu Yan has a way of being able to quickly sift through everything unnecessary and getting to the root cause. Her advice _would_ be nice. Plus, Jiaqi also thinks she’s the type to not make a fuss over this at all. 

“Yu Yan,” Jiaqi says, solemnly. “Sun Rui isn’t—she isn’t my _friend_.”

All Yu Yan gives is a puzzled expression. 

Jiaqi inhales. Exhales. She hasn’t had to say this in a while. She steels herself. 

“Sun Rui’s my girlfriend. We’re together.”

Yu Yan, in a rare moment of unguardedness, goes slack-jawed. Jiaqi’s surprised at her reaction; it’s not often Yu Yan breaks her facade of perpetual unfeeling. 

“She’s your _girlfriend_?”

Jiaqi winces. “Look, I—”

“No, it’s not that.” Yu Yan sits up straighter. “She’s your _girlfriend_ , and she doesn’t want to talk to you about what you guys will do after the show? I knew she was a self-sacrificing dumbass, but—”

“She just doesn’t want me to worry, I think—”

“Yeah, Sun Rui has a stupid habit of doing that.” Yu Yan ties her hair, and for a moment, Jiaqi is terrified. “Dumbass.”

Yu Yan jumps— _jumps_ —from Dai Meng’s bunk straight to the floor. She stomps toward the door, surprisingly gentle when she opens and closes it. A few seconds later, Jiaqi hears Yu Yan’s voice. “ _Sun Rui!_ ” she yells. “ _Sun Rui, I swear to God when I find you_ —”

Dai Meng winces. “Poor Sun Rui. I was curious about what Ella laoshi’s team looked like behind the scenes, but …”

Jiaqi’s still staring at the door. “Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  


Thirty minutes later, a very blanched Sun Rui enters her dorm. 

“And that’s my cue.” Dai Meng closes the book she was reading. “See you guys tomorrow.”

She leaves, and the two of them are alone. 

Sun Rui is weary when she takes the few steps to climb up to Jiaqi’s bed. 

“Yu Yan give you a good beating down?”

She nods. There’s a small pout on her face, and Jiaqi wipes her thumb across it, cradling her cheek. Sun Rui’s so pretty, even in the low light, her hair to one side, her earrings glittering, her sad eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells Jiaqi. “I’m just not ready to say goodbye. If we talk about it, then we’re _admitting_ it. We’re making it real.”

“I know.” 

“I didn’t want you to think about it,” Sun Rui adds. “Focus on working hard. So you can debut.”

Jiaqi blinks and nods. “Yeah. I know that, too.”

A long, strained silence. Jiaqi knows Sun Rui’s thinking about it, too. All the things they won’t be able to do anymore. Dinner after theater performances, movie marathons in the random member’s apartment they’d decided to crash for the day. Sneaking out for convenience store runs. Practicing together, passing out on the training room floor together. Their hands always being in each other’s reach. Each other’s smell in their hair. 

“It’ll be just like when you’re in Korea, or Hengdian,” she whispers. “Just … longer.”

Jiaqi hears the _all the time_ that Sun Rui had swallowed down. Sun Rui leans forward, resting her head on Jiaqi’s shoulder. 

“You can message me _anything_ you want to,” Jiaqi tells her. “Send voice notes. Pictures—of whatever. Don’t think I’ll be too busy for it. Yeah?”

“Okay.” Sun Rui nods, Jiaqi feeling it against her shoulder. 

“Any time of the day, too,” Jiaqi adds. “3AM, I don’t care.”

“You _will_ care, you princess.”

“Hey—”

“I know, I know.” Sun Rui straightens herself back up. She takes hold of Jiaqi’s hand, fiddling with her fingers. “And the date you wanted? After the show ends?”

Jiaqi smiles. “Linhai, of course. And Harbin.”

At the mention of _Harbin_ , Sun Rui freezes for a split second before relaxing. It’s not easy, knowing her family was at the frontlines. She hasn’t heard from them in a while, but the last update Jiaqi had gotten was that they weren’t needed in Hubei anymore, and had gone back up to Heilongjiang. Jiaqi’s already excited to visit Sun Rui’s home, staying there until Sun Rui’s accent begins to creep back into her Mandarin. 

“There’s so much there I still want to show you,” she tells Jiaqi. 

“I can’t wait,” is Jiaqi’s reply, leaning closer, pulled in by the sheer force of how much she _wants_ this girl. 

Sun Rui starts off gentler than Jiaqi’d expected, slow, soft. But Jiaqi inches her hand under Sun Rui’s shirt, feeling her skin, and Sun Rui lurches forward. Jiaqi falls down on her bed, Sun Rui pushing against the seam of her lips, licking into her mouth. Jiaqi is dizzy with all of it, all of _Sun Rui_ , her quiet gasps and her hair falling over her face. They’re drinking as much of each other as they can, filling themselves so they have enough to spare for when they can’t do this anymore. 

They want each other, but they’re also _tired,_ bone-weary, so before anything can happen Sun Rui pulls away and flops onto the bed, beside Jiaqi. 

Jiaqi turns to face her. This is her favourite way of seeing Sun Rui. So much so that her phone album of her is almost all just of this, of Sun Rui beside her, so close to her, asleep, awake, sad, ecstatic, always beautiful. She looks as hard as she can, only helped by dim moonlight, tries to burn this image onto the back of her eyelids.

“What will we be,” Sun Rui asks, “after all this?”

Jiaqi has never been one to hold onto tomorrows. She doesn’t know what will happen. If she’ll make it to the final group. If she won’t. If Sun Rui will. If she’ll be able to set foot on Jiaxing Road again. How happy they’ll be. How angry. 

But if there’s one thing Jiaqi knows, it’s _her._ The girl in front of her. That she’ll be in all of Jiaqi’s tomorrows. All of Jiaqi’s joy, and grief, and success, and pain. There isn’t a part of her Jiaqi’s life that Sun Rui hasn’t touched—there _won’t be_ any part of her future that she won’t touch, either. 

Jiaqi answers, “What we’ve always been.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave your thoughts here or on my [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/pisceshorizon) ♡


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